


Abducted

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alien Abduction, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 04:34:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10482192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: A few months back, an Anon sent me an Ask: “Newt/Hermann, kinky alien roleplay?” Here you go, Anon, sorry it took so long!





	

Newt has to pretend to be asleep for the first part. He doesn't mind, because it still involves having his body manipulated and restrained, which is mostly what this fantasy is about.

When he “wakes up,” he is in the spare bedroom in the basement. It is much colder down here. The minimal furniture is covered with thick vinyl sheeting, which disguises the mundane aspects of the room and gives it a sterile, science-fiction feel. Behind the sheeting, multi-colored lights glow or blink, and Newt hears the bleep and hum of unfamiliar machines.

There is no visible exit. And even if there were, he’d have a hell of a time getting to it. He is in the middle of the room, lying on a narrow mattress on a high frame, which is also draped in a vinyl sheet. He is completely naked, on his back with his legs bent. His arms are straight at his sides, and there are straps on his wrists and ankles, which bind each hand to each foot, rendering him immobile with his legs spread, knees pointing at the ceiling. He is situated so that his most private area is right at the edge of the bed, completely exposed and vulnerable.

A row of bright lights on the ceiling shine in his face. Between himself and the light fixtures, a silhouette appears, looming over him. It is humanoid, but in shadow, so no other features can be discerned.

A hand on his jaw compels him to open his mouth. An instrument is inserted, synthetic and not sharp. Newt squirms against his restraints, his protests garbled.

“Please do not struggle.” Hermann’s voice is even more stilted than usual, verging on robotic. “I am collecting a sample of your genetic material using the least-invasive method possible. This procedure should be painless to you.”

The moment the instrument is removed, Newt shrieks, “Where am I? Who are you? _What_ are you?”

As his eyes adjust to the light, the figure becomes clearer to him: Hermann wears fitted clothes, all the same shade of grey, and white nitrile gloves. His face and head are obscured by a fitted white hood, which appears opaque, though it is designed so the wearer can see through it, the sort of material cosplayers use when they play superheroes. For dramatic purposes, Hermann is not using his cane, so he stays close to the table, and leans on it occasionally.

Hermann places the instrument on a stainless steel tray and picks up another, which he inserts in Newt’s ear. Newt writhes at the invasive discomfort. Next, another device, this one going into his mouth. Another tool from the tray slides smoothly over his forehead. All three of these objects are meant for taking someone’s temperature, but the handles have been spray-painted silver. With his eyeless, expressionless face, Hermann examines their displays for the results.

Newt was afraid it might all feel too fake, but he’s already having a good time. The restraints are cinched tight. He likes that. He hollers, “You don’t have to do this! I can tell you anything you want to know! I’m something of a scientist myself. In fact, I have six degrees, in—”

“Please explain the incongruent appearance of your arms,” says Hermann, raising his voice but maintaining a menacing lack of inflection. “Were they grafted to your body?”

“Were they what? No, these are tattoos.” Hermann tilts his head and is silent. Newt explains: “It's a body modification ritual that some humans perform.”

Hermann takes something from the tray, and moments later Newt feels sharp pricks along his arms. It’s meant to be a needle, but it’s probably just the end of a bent paperclip.  While he presses with it, Hermann remarks, “You are a female of your species, correct?”

“Um, no. Why would you say that?”

Hermann leans forward to scrutinize Newt’s nipples, then proceeds to pinch them. “You have these. We have already determined that the female of your species uses these for the transmission of nutrients to your young. If you are not a female, why do you have them?”

“Th--the genetic code for nipples is an autosome,” Newt whimpers. “Autosomes…are gender-neutral.” He grits his teeth, trying to talk around the noises of pleasure that threaten to escape him. “This universal template is a…more efficient way of structuring the genome.”

Hermann flicks each nipple in turn, observing the effects. “What is the purpose of their having erectile tissue? What will be the result if I continue to manipulate them in this fashion?”

“Um, the result is happening right now, dude.” Newt tilts his head to indicate his penis, which is firming up.

Hermann shifts his attention there. With one gloved hand, he holds it, squeezes it inquisitively. “Is this your primary reproductive organ?”

Newt pants, “Kind of? I mean, that’s just the delivery system. The part below it is what's really vital.”

With a careful hand, Hermann methodically cups and massages Newt’s balls.  Despite the mask, the lack of discernible facial features, Newt feels helplessly scrutinized.

“The human body is very delicate, and responsive,” Hermann observes. “You must find it very distracting in day-to-day life.”

Newt chuckles, “Yeah, that can be a problem.”

Hermann’s curious hand moves down to the little puckered opening beneath Newt’s balls, prodding at it only briefly with dry fingertips before retrieving a bottle of lubricant. He applies it to two fingers and returns to his task, this time applying more pressure, breaching Newt, sinking inside. As his heart rate soars with excitement and anticipation, Newt clenches involuntarily, but far too late to deter Hermann’s intruding fingers. He tries to buck and thrash, but the restraints prevent him from doing so. Hermann strokes and plays with Newt’s prostate, its location being quite familiar to him, though he feigns ignorance.

“Is this orifice reproductive in nature?” he demands.

“No, it, uh, _ah_ —” It’s difficult for Newt to form a sentence, as Hermann has now pushed the index fingers of both hands inside him, and is using both to tug gently at his rim, in opposite directions.

“Clearly it is,” Hermann says gravely, “for the stimulation I administered has caused your reproductive organ to become erect. It is not helpful if you lie to me.”

Hermann leaves Newt stretched and empty to walk over to the side of the bed. The cold air clings where Hermann has made him wet and slick.

“It is disappointing that you are not a female of your species, as I anticipated,” Hermann says. “I was instructed by my superiors to complete an impregnation. They will be disappointed if an attempt is not recorded.”

Hermann is doing something with one hand just below Newt’s line of sight. His speech remains devoid of emotion as he points with his free hand. “Probing of that orifice results in the emergence of fluid from your reproductive organ. To collect this fluid while performing the impregnation attempt is the most efficient method. My species keep most of our reproductive glands and materials inside our bodies, as that is more efficient, and our ability to thermoregulate is superior to humans. However, we have an organ that functions as a delivery system similar to yours. I will show you.”

As Hermann steps back from the bed and maneuvers himself to a position of better visibility, Newt can, for the first time, see that there is a comical bulge in Hermann’s trousers.

Newt is not expecting what Hermann pulls out. He has strapped to his body an enormous silicone tentacle, dusky purple but with bright suckers on the underside, which look like they contain phosphors. It tapers from the base, becoming more reasonably narrow, but then flares to a bulbous glans. Newt would have found it hilarious how it burst out of Hermann’s trousers the moment he pulled them aside, except that he knows that all of that is going in him. Well, probably only half of it will fit. Maybe two-thirds, if he tries hard and believes in himself. Still, it’s enough to deploy his adrenaline, and the shaking in his voice is genuine when he protests, “You can’t! Human’s aren’t designed for something like that!”

“You cooperation will make this easier,” Hermann deadpans as he moves back between Newt’s thighs, “but it is not required.”

Newt reflexively closes his knees, to the best of his ability, but Hermann brusquely pulls them apart with both hands before proceeding with his objective. He’s handling the tentacle carelessly, slapping it against Newt’s thighs, making it seem prehensile.

“Please remain calm while I conduct this procedure,” Hermann says, lining up the monstrous tentacle to Newt’s hole. At first, it’s not so big, and Newt’s fear is entirely performative. But as it makes its way further inside him, it gets wider, and wider, and pushes and tugs at his inner walls like nothing ever has before. Newt has a sudden feeling, like the thing is maybe too deep, and utters a distressed grunt. Hermann pauses. Newt strains to see him reach down with one hand, pinch the tentacle where it’s stretching Newt open, and use that as a guide for how deep to go. Newt lets his head drop to the mattress, confident that he’s in good hands.

Save for his caution about the depth, Hermann grinds into him freely; the tentacle is jabbing places inside Newt he’s sure have never been touched. Utterly pinioned and invaded, he jerks, not a struggle but a spontaneous response to intense pleasure. Despite his fierce grunts and glottal sounds, he knows his body is capable of taking what Hermann is giving him.

Hermann’s rhythm hitches only slightly when he reaches out to pick up an uncapped specimen container. He asks flatly, “Do you require additional friction to facilitate the release of your reproductive fluid?”

Not this time, Newt doesn’t. Hermann’s dispassionate jargon sends him over the edge, and he lets out a wail as his body reflexively squeezes around the massive, solid tentacle. Hermann holds the container out with one hand and deftly catches Newt’s spunk in it.

Though dazed, the feeling of the tentacle retreating from his body is vivid and nearly as intrusive as it was going in. Newt cannot see it, but he can imagine what the thing looks like as it takes seemingly forever to slither out of him.

He hears a few clicks, then the clatter of the tentacle and its various straps and buckles hitting the floor.

Hermann is clearly trying to maintain his detached manner but he is panting with the exertion of fucking Newt. “There is one more probe,” he gasps, “to measure your internal capacity. I'm going to inject some fluid.”

Hermann’s cock slides easily into Newt’s slick, stretched hole. It takes only a few thrusts for him to ejaculate, his icy tone devolving into a tender moan, which drowns out Newt’s exhausted, post-orgasmic huffs.

Once he’s deposited his last weak spurt in Newt’s body, Hermann quickly reverts to his alien persona, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. “Human,” he addressed Newt hoarsely, “your capacity to receive and provide pleasure is intriguing to me. My instructions were to conduct preliminary testing, then release you and report the results to my superiors. But I think that I will keep you. I will explain to my superiors that more tests are in order. The truth being, I find your differently-hued skin and your anatomical arrangements to be exotic, but still within the bounds of what my race finds aesthetically pleasing. Thus, I would like to continue to interfere with you sexually in the future.”

Newt blinks at this. “Um, thanks?” He kind of wants out of the restraints now. He tilts his head to indicate this. Hermann exclaims, “Oh!” and quickly moves to undo the buckles. Once freed, Newt sits up and stretches. Hermann reaches below the bed, where he’s stashed a blanket. He wraps it around Newt, then goes to the table for the glass of water he’d set there earlier.

“This survey of your reproductive functions has been an enlightening experience and your compliance is appreciated,” he says. “It is my understanding that humans need regular hydration in order to thrive. Drink this water.”

Newt takes several gulps from the glass, then says, “You know, you can stop now. Scene’s over.” He reaches up and pulls Hermann’s mask off. “Or was that just you talking normally?”

Despite his best efforts, Hermann finally cracks, giggling uncontrollably. He’s clearly having a hard time believing he’s just done this, and it makes Newt want to hold him. But in a minute. For now, he hands Hermann back the glass of water. Hermann needs it, too; he’s sweated through his costume. With his free hand, he gently rubs Newt’s wrists where the restraints left deep marks.

“Next time, let’s do something simpler, alright?”

“You got it,” Newt says. “Only three trips to the hardware store, and the supporting cast will not exceed…five?”

He just wants to see Hermann giggle again.


End file.
